


The 5 First Kisses of Frank and Gerard

by Gracefully



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alcohol, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 07:18:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4339097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gracefully/pseuds/Gracefully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because each is a first of its own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The 5 First Kisses of Frank and Gerard

**Author's Note:**

> me: *is frerard trash*  
> me: *continues to write frerard garbage*   
> -  
> Un-beta'd and unapologetic, as always.

 

Drunk

  
It's a house party, thrown by some kid that saw their show and wanted to impress and include them, but that's where Gerard's brain stops. It’s a large, old house with arching ceilings and lots of bedrooms, but he has no idea what the adress is, much less the town. Past that he's fuzzy, a cacophony of people and noises and spuds surrounding him, and he feels so. Damn. Good. Like he could have sex 20 times in a row before dancing for another hour. Or maybe that’s just the beer inside him.

He's lost his drink more times than he can count, and he doesn't care. The alcohol just keeps on coming at this place, and Gerard is fine downing it as fast as he can. There’s a kid going around spiking people’s beers with whiskey or vodka or some shit, and the burn of both is a pleasant combination for Gerard. As he walks through the house, sipping at another beer, he quickly does the standard head count of his band.

The people at the party are almost all college kids, and they know how to drink well. There's a game of beer pong that Ray has been dominating for several rounds now, and after every game his face gets a little pinker, his actions become a little sloppier. Mikey has been making out with an attractive blonde for a while, and Gerard is pretty sure he saw Bob slip down to the basement to smoke.

Frank, however, is another question. The man had fled almost as soon as the party started, getting wrapped up in the revelry and debauchery of the whole thing. Gerard thought he saw him disappear into the basement with Bob, but he has next to no idea. In his drunk haze, Gerard knows that he should find him, should check in and see how he's doing.   
He checks two or three bathrooms first, but all are either occupied with other people or empty. The house is vast, and he knows that he can’t hope to search the whole thing quickly. Besides, its only 11, they have lots of time to find him.

Suddenly, as he passes a closet, a hand snakes out and grabs him, yanking him inside. Gerard cusses, trying to bat off the person that has grabbed him and dragged him into the closet. The door slams shut behind him, and only a sliver of light around the frame can be seen. A hand claps over his mouth, and after a moment of struggle, Gerard is pinned. He panics for a moment, thinking of all the bad that could come from the encounter. Then, Frank giggles and releases Gerard's mouth. Gerard sighs.

"Jesus, Frankie, you scared me." He can only see the whites of Frank’s eyes before him, the darkness is so complete.

Frank snorts, his hand coming up to bump into Gerard’s face. Gerard can smell the beer and pot on his breath, but he doesn’t care. “I gotcha.” Frank laughs, continuing to not move away from Gerard. Gerard leans back against the wall. There’s an old fur coat to the side of him, and through the haze, Gerard can tell it smells like mold and dust.

“Shit, Frank, where are we?” he asks, affectionately and sloppily ruffling Frank’s hair. Frank laughs again, and Gerard faintly remembers that Frank is a giggly drunk. He’s a giggly stoner too, but that’s beside the point.

“A house party, dipshit,” Frank chuckles, leaning further into Gerard. Gerard’s heart rate kicks up a notch as Frank’s hand comes up to his face, pulling Gerard down to his level. Gerard lets himself be tugged down, fearing to breathe or mess anything up. Hell, what they’re doing now could very well break them and the band apart, but the alcohol in Gerard’s brain blocks those thoughts out. The kiss lands somewhere at the side of Gerard’s mouth, sloppy and wet. Frank is teetering on his toes and Gerard feels like he’s going to tip over, and they both try and center the kiss at the same time, but end up knocking noses instead.

Frank laughs and Gerard blushes, before he goes in for a second kiss, and this time their lips lock together for a moment, before Gerard leans a little too far forward and they stumble, breaking apart. Frank’s hands wind up on Gerard’s chest to steady himself, and Gerard’s hands are in Frank’s hair and this feeling of security, of rightfulness, is cutting through the alcohol in Gerard’s blood. He blinks, and Frank is still before him, a small smile on his lips. Then, the door is yanked open by a couple attached at the lips and quickly fumbling at each others clothes. They knock into Frank and Gerard, barely even noticing that their closet is occupied. Frank and Gerard practically fall out of the closet and into the hallway in their haste to leave.

They stand for a second, blinking in the light of the hallway, before both bursting into raucous laughter. They start off down the hallway, and Gerard throws his arm around Frank’s shoulders, drawing him close to his side. As they enter the more populated living room, Gerard hastily presses a kiss into Frank’s hair. Frank grins and slips a hand under Gerard’s jacket, coming to rest at his lower back.

The next morning, Gerard wakes up in the van, feeling oddly empty after a night not spent with Frank. When Gerard finds Frank passed out on a couch, they get coffee together, so that’s something, but they don’t talk about the kiss. Gerard supposes that Frank might not remember, but Gerard remembers well, so well, as if he could never forget the feeling of Frank’s lips on his. He hopes Frank feels the same.

 

Dare

 

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” There’s a scoff behind it, as if Frank is saying,  _Why would I ever be so lame to pick truth? Must you even ask?_  Frank’s asked for only dares since the game has begun, but most are pretty tame.

“Um, okay. I dare you to…” Dewees’ eyes scan the room, sparkling and calculating. They land on Gerard and his mouth twists into a smirk. His cheeks are rosy from the alcohol, and Gerard feels his heat up under Dewees’ gaze. “I dare you to make out with Gerard. Shirtless.”

There’s a silence, before Ray chokes on his beer, laughing and coughing. Gerard’s eyes shoot over to Frank, who has a bemused and slightly nervous look on his face. They have a conversation of sorts with their eyes and facial expressions.

_Are you okay with this?_

_We’ve done this before._

_Not quite like this._

_Okay._

Gerard’s stomach suddenly clenches, and he feels like he’s falling. Frank is moving towards him and Gerard suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. They settle on their knees in the center of the circle, and after a beat, Frank easily strips out of his t-shirt. Gerard blushes as he pulls his off, and Bob wolf-whistles. This causes a chuckle from the group, and Gerard ducks his head, embarrassed.

His bare skin is cold where it hits the air, and he suddenly looks very pale. Frank looks him in the eye. He raises a single eyebrow, a teasing smirk apparent in his gaze. “Tongue?” he asks.

Gerard’s brain can’t catch up to the question. “What?” is all he can get out, before Frank is surging at him, grabbing Gerard’s shoulders and holding him in place. Gerard’s mind is numb, and he reaches out to hold Frank’s face. Gerard realizes his eyes are still open, but Frank’s are closed, and he quickly closes them.

There’s a laugh from the group, but Gerard feels the outside slipping away. He starts to focus on the kiss, and opens his mouth farther. Frank immediately pushes forward, and sure enough, Gerard can feel Frank’s tongue brush up against his own. He knots a hand in Frank’s hair, pushing back against Frank. He finds himself enjoying the kiss, and the small knot of embarrassment and humiliation unwinds in his stomach, giving way to heat and pleasure. The hand not in Frank’s hair slips down to his lower back, pulling the other man closer. A small moan, no more than vibrations, escapes Frank’s mouth, but Gerard can feel it more clearly than he can feel the other people in the room around them.

Suddenly, a different hand is on his shoulder, and Gerard snaps out of it. His eyes shoot open, and the light hurts even though there’s so little of it on their bus. He sees Frank in front of him, pupils blown wide, panting. Dewees is standing above them, a hand on each as he pulls them apart. “Alright guys, you’ve fulfilled the dare.” he chuckles.

“Holy shit.” Frank breathes, hands still on Gerard’s torso. Gerard agrees.

“Fuck.” Gerard replies, untangling his hand from Frank’s hair. He doesn’t miss how Frank leans into the touch. He realizes that his other hand has slipped underneath the waistband of Frank’s jeans, and his fingertips press into the fabric of Frank’s boxers. He feels his face heat up, and ducks his head shyly as Frank lets go of him.

They move back to their respective spots in the circle, but Gerard keeps catching Frank looking at him before furtively looking away. Ray keeps looking between them with a pensive look on his face, but says nothing.

 

On Stage

 

It’s You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us in Prison that trips up Gerard. When writing the song, he knew what he was writing about. Before playing it at one show, and at this one, he screamed, “This song is about getting fucked up the ass!” Gerard knew, truly and fully, that the song had a certain vibe, and that sometimes, that vibe had to be seen out to the end.

Frank sent Gerard a filthy look across the stage as the first note started. He was probably high off of the performance, and Gerard felt that rush as well, the boil in his veins that pumped up as the crowd cheered.

He riles them up like a pro, licking his palms and shouting obscene things at them, knowing he looks like a million bucks. He’s dripping in sweat and the eyeliner will probably run into his eyes, but right now, Gerard doesn’t care in the slightest. He begins the song with his normal gusto, prancing about the stage like its his job, which it technically is.

The drumbeat is thumping in his bones and Ray’s high-pitched guitar is singing in his veins. The crowd is a cheering roar before him, nameless and without identity. The lights flash in his eyes and Gerard has never been happier, sweating out of every pore and screaming the lyrics to a song he wrote.

Frank keeps sending him looks and Gerard traipses closer, an idea beginning to form. He leers at Frank, spinning away at the last second. He makes it to the bridge before he takes action, storming across the stage with a purpose.

Frank doesn’t look up until Gerard forces him to, shoving a hand into his filthy, sweaty hair and yanking his head back, crashing their mouths together. Frank reciprocates immediately, pausing playing his guitar in favor of licking into Gerard’s mouth. Gerard can feel Frank’s arm slip around his waist, drawing him closer. He can tell he needs to sing soon, that he has to break away, but a part of him doesn’t want to. A large part of Gerard wishes he could stay in this moment forever: kissing Frank onstage as the thousands of people watching scream their lungs out.

Instead, he breaks away, shoving Frank’s head away, singing the next part of the song. He can feel Frank’s smirk from across the stage even as he turns his back.

 

After the show, they walk off stage and Gerard slings his arm around Frank’s shoulders, drawing him close and pressing a breathy kiss to the side of his head. Frank hugs his side and in the dim lights and loud chaos of backstage, Gerard can see the sparkle in Frank’s eyes. He tells himself that the flutter in his gut is just coming down from the high of the show, as he ruffles Frank’s hair affectionately and grins at the backs of the people in front of him.

  
  


Lonely

 

The night is long and cold, and Gerard spends most of it sitting on the floor of his bedroom. The moon isn’t even near to full to begin with, and the heavy clouds block out most of the light anyways. The dim, flickering light from the streetlight outside Gerard’s house is depressing even to Gerard, and he feels some sort of hollowness well up inside him for no apparent reason.

Maybe it’s the funk he’s been in recently catching up to him; or the anti-depressants wearing off; or maybe he’s coming down from a metaphorical high of his life, and Gerard’s mind can’t deal with the feelings.

They haven’t had a concert for a good month, and settling back down into a moderately sleepy life in New Jersey is odd to Gerard. He feels like he should be doing something, should be screaming his lungs out on stage or cramming into an uncomfortable bunk with his bandmates, not making himself ramen alone in his kitchen at 8 pm on a Tuesday night.

The wall is cold at Gerard’s back, spreading its chill through his spine and into the rest of his being, down to his very toes. He doesn’t know how long he stares at the wall in front of him, feeling like laughter would be too much work to even attempt, and that maybe life is as pointless as he once believed it was.

Gerard feels his chest constrict a little, as thoughts he believed to be forever buried rise to the top of his mind.

He can feel the thoughts closing in, the gray walls of his red mind shrinking down to crush his passion, his liveliness. He sees his phone, only a few feet away.

It feels like it takes years to peel his back from the wall, to lean forward and pick the thing up. It feels like lead, it’s so heavy in Gerard’s palm. He flips it open, dialing Frank’s number without really thinking, and presses the cold metal to his ear. The ringtone is a shrill buzz that penetrates the gray stillness of the room, and Gerard feels like wincing.

Frank picks up on the third ring. “‘Sup?” he asks. His voice sounds light, happy, and altogether different from Gerard’s. Gerard suddenly feels self-conscious that he’s reaching out, that he’s ruining Frank’s night. He considers muttering “Nevermind,” and hanging up, but instead gnaws his lip for a moment and asks quietly,

“Can you come over?”

It must be something in the tone of his voice (lack of emotion, maybe, or an altogether too-large accumulation of one emotion), but there’s a significant pause before Frank responds, “Sure, ok.” Gerard can hear a door close on Frank’s end. “Are you ok?” Frank asks.

“I’m not really sure.” Gerard sighs. “Just empty.” Gerard can hear a car starting.

“G?” Frank asks. “I’ll be there soon, ok? Just hang in there.” His voice sounds awfully pinched and it makes Gerard feel awful, to hear how he’s the one making Frank anxious.

Frank arrives fifteen minutes later and lets himself into the house, shutting the door behind him quietly. “Gerard?” he calls.

“In here.” Gerard replies softly, not moving. Frank comes into the room and sits down right next to him, their arms and legs touching. From the corner of his eye, Gerard can see Frank’s profile, how he tilts his head slightly to talk to Gerard.

“I’m glad you called me.” he says, and leaves that statement to hang in the air. Gerard doesn’t know how he should feel, but he tries to respond honestly, and it works.

“I’m glad you’re here with me now.”

Frank lets out a small chuckle, reaching out to brush his fingers against Gerard’s. He easily twines their hands together, and Gerard feels a little of the ache seep out of him. “G.” Frank says. Something in Frank’s voice makes Gerard turn, puzzled, to look at him. Frank looks nervous all of the sudden. He takes a breath quickly, like he's preparing, before leaning forward and kissing Gerard on the lips.

It was quick and chaste, with barely anything more than lips, but Gerard still feels a stir in his chest, a movement of the gray waste that occupied that space. It wasn't a loss of romance or even of promise, it was a kiss to comfort them both, and they both understood that. Frank pulls away slightly, choosing instead to lean his forehead against Gerard’s. Gerard lets his eyes flutter closed, choosing to simply be with Frank in the moment, rather than push things too far. Their hands are still twined together, and Gerard can’t help but smile a little bit at that.

The two sit there for the rest of the night, until Frank falls asleep in Gerard’s lap, and Gerard wakes to the sun rising. He smiles down at the man drooling into his sweatpants, infinitely grateful to him for sticking the night out with him.

 

Finally

 

When they kiss for real, for the first time, music does not actually play in the background, but Gerard could still hear a heavenly chorus somewhere above them. He didn't taste alcohol or pot smoke or anything on Frank's lips, and the fact that he can taste Frank, and only Frank, is more intoxicating than any drug.

Frank had initiated it, but Gerard was sure that he would have, if he had had enough time to think about things. And tell himself that if Frank didn't like him back in that way, it wasn't the end of the world. Long story short, Gerard was very, very relieved that Frank made the first move.

It had started simply, with Frank and Gerrd lounging on the couch while Gerard sketched Frank's profile, then suddenly Frank was fidgeting, and looking nervous, and then he lunged forward, knocking the sketchbook out of Gerard's hands in his haste. The kiss was messy and off-center. Frank's weight had thrown him forward, on top of Gerard, whose brain was trying to function while simultaneously turning to mush and dealing with the thousands of fireworks that seemed to have taken up Gerard's cognitive regions.

Gerard was quick to pick up to what was happening, slipping a hand into Frank's hair and holding him firmly in place. Frank's hands skimmed Gerard's sides as he parted his lips, allowing Gerard's tongue to slip inside.

Gerard was getting swept away in the moment, and as a second of clarity hit him, he pulled away slightly. Frank immediately backed off, a somewhat hurt look on his face. "I'm sorry, I just-" he said, starting to untangle himself from Gerard and retreat to the other side of the couch.

"No, it's fine." Gerard said quickly, running his hand up and down Frank's arm. "I just wanted to be reassured...that, well. I mean, do you actually like me?" Gerard felt nervous tension coil in his stomach, even though he knew what the answer was.

Frank grinned. "Yeah. I like you a lot, actually." He blushed, suddenly bashful, and Gerard decided it was hands down the cutest thing he had ever seen. "Now, I need to be sure that this isn't one-sided."

Gerard shook his head. He felt a grin work its way onto his face, and he sat up a little bit, so that he was eye to eye with Frank. "I've liked you for fuck, I don't even know how long." He said. And with those poetic words, Gerard leaned forward and kissed Frank like he meant it, without alcohol or sadness or the crowd getting in the way. Instead, it was just the two of them, sober, clean, and consentual. And Gerard decided he wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
